What Ever Happened to the Gay Junkie?

Sep 17, 2008

Posted by: abandonedboyjon

Uncategorized

Back in 2004, my life as a Potter fan was very different. I had read all the published works (1-5), but I did not have nearly the same connection with the films, the first two of which had been released. When Prisoner of Azkaban came out, my fanaticism took a turn. I remember developing an insatiable appetite for high-resolution pictures after one of the trio in Hagrid’s pumpkin patch was released. I remember the controversy over Hermione’s pink sweatshirt and rainbow belt. And I remember the first time I saw the film. It was like seeing Harry Potter how I imagined, from the thinly veiled wand-usage reference at the open (you know what I mean, right?), to the haunting skeletal Dementors and inky blacks which miraculously renewed my fear of Sirius, though I’d read the book so long ago and already knew the truth. Yes, the shrunken heads and Flitwick’s make-over were terrible, but no more offensive than any of the other, shall we say, missteps of other Potter films. The thing that really stood out to me about Alfonso Cuarón’s interpretation was that he really seemed to have bonded with the material, as a reader. I felt similarly about his adaptations of Great Expectations and A Little Princess, two films that also captured the mood of the original work very precisely. It is something that the subsequent Potter films have aimed for. You hear it in interviews with the directors and producers; it can sometimes sound like an excuse to mess with the source material. Often times I think this, ruefully, when I hear about certain storylines being cut for an upcoming film, but I don’t actually believe it. I suppose it’s entirely natural to worry about these things. After all, these filmmakers are not fans, not like all of us anyway. The series will never have a director like Sam Raimi, who grew up obsessed with Spider-man and later directed three blockbuster adaptations of the comic book. (Of course, a director such as this is no guarantee of quality filmmaking. The third Web-crawler sequel was not a bad movie, but compared to previous installments, it was definitely sub-par).

Cuarón may not be a Potterhead, but I felt he established a deep, very tangible connection with the story of Prisoner of Azkaban. Sitting in that theater, a young, openly gay teenager, I felt like Cuarón saw the third book as I had done, especially in regards to Lupin. Cuarón instructed David Thewlis to think of Lupin as a “gay junkie;” I had certainly always seen Lupin as queer. (I suppose now would be a good time to point out that queer, for me, regards sexual fluidity more than biological match-ups). I remember when I read Goblet of Fire, how surprised I was that Jo was laying heavier hints about love brewing between Ron and Hermione, but then in the fifth book there was hardly any romance, despite Harry and Cho’s awkward first kiss. That pretty much cemented a belief I had that romance and sexuality were never really going to be a part of the series. I looked at all the seemingly loveless, sexless lives of the teachers. I wondered if they lived at the castle during the year, or if what we saw was indeed the extent of their existence. I assumed we’d be left with this sexual ambiguity, forever guessing, secretly believing our own theories. I never could have imagined, at that point, the layered mysteries of so many love stories that were yet to come, like Snape and Lily, Merope and Tom Sr., Albus and Gellert. The last two books and the interviews with Jo that followed must have been incredibly satisfying to anyone who had theorized about such relationships playing a vital role in the series.

And though I was surprised at the inclusion of these pairings, it was the Lupin and Tonks’ relationship that I found most, what’s the word, shocking? That doesn’t really describe it. I was blind-sided. I thought Harry’s suggestion that Tonks had been in love with Sirius sounded a bit silly and even the idea that she had lost her edge because a member of the Order had fallen did not seem to be a characteristic befitting to an auror. I suppose painful, unrequited love is a little more believable, but with Lupin? Even though I’ve gotten used to that hospital wing scene, some part of me still shouts, random! And it certainly throws Cuarón’s and my theory into question.

So where did the gay junkie go? I consider myself to be canon-faithful. I believe anything Jo wants me to believe since it’s her story. But I can’t help wondering if there’s an undiscovered layer to this. It seems every time we peel away one in Potterverse, there’s a new mystery close behind. I still read Tonks and Lupin as a couple of gay-bo’s who have decided to get married and have a baby together, something that is très chic in the queer world. These relationships are not always devoid of romantic love. In fact, sometimes they are built on a romance that simply goes above and beyond attraction. And yes, my inclination that Tonks could be gay was definitely born from the description of her too-cute butchie haircut from Order of the Phoenix and her insistence upon using her last name, which gay women sometimes do. As readers, we spin the world our way. And why shouldn’t we? Chris Columbus, Alfonso Cuarón, Mike Newell, and David Yates have all had opportunities to do so. The films are not so different from fan fiction in this. It’s like when a different author writes a sequel to your favorite book. It’s part of the “official” series, but slightly less authentic. I simply think myself lucky that good ol’ Alfonso and I were on the same page.

-Jon





The Leaky Cauldron is not associated with J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., or any of the individuals or companies associated with producing and publishing Harry Potter books and films.